


"You're my weak spot, and I'm yours."

by Chamsp



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 22:57:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14122656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chamsp/pseuds/Chamsp
Summary: A place for all my Wincest drabbles and one-shots. Each chapter is a stand alone piece. Ratings and tags may change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 150 words of Wincest. No beta. All mistakes are mine.

Sam is thirteen, and he can’t stop looking at his brother. Dean is the most amazing person he knows, and Sam wants to be like Dean.

It’s hero worship. 

Sam is fifteen, and he can’t stop looking at his brother. He’s older now; understands things. When he looks at Dean, there’s a flutter in his stomach, and Sam knows that’s wrong.

It’s complicated.

Sam is seventeen, and he can’t stop looking at his brother. He has accepted that he’s a freak with hots for his brother, and just looking at Dean feels good. So good!

It’s lust.

Sam is eighteen, and can’t bear to look at his brother. It hurts–rips him apart, consumes him whole.

It’s not complicated anymore. It’s painfully simple.

He’s in love.

He won’t say, because he can imagine the betrayed, disgusted look on Dean’s face, and he wouldn’t survive that.

Sam is eighteen, and he leaves.

~Chamsp


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the infamous 'Drunk Sam' scene from the episode 'Playthings'. If Wincest ever had a chance to be canon, according to me this is where it would all start. Here’s my take.

“Please, Dean. You have to promise me.” Sam’s begging, the words slightly slurred, whiskey breath fanning over Dean’s lips. 

Dean’s heart is thundering in his chest. Sam’s right there, all drunk and grabby, looking at him with those pleading eyes just like he has all his life, and Dean wants to punch something. Because he can’t do what he actually wants to. He can’t grab Sam by the hair and kiss all these messed up ideas right out of his stupid head. 

“I promise.” He mutters instead, a lie to sooth his hysterical brother. 

He wants this to get over, for Sam to just go to sleep, but that isn’t happening. Sam is pulling him closer, clumsy fingers that were gripping Dean’s jacket are suddenly grabbing his face. 

“Thank you.” Sam half whispers, breath stuttering. “You are…”

And before Dean can make sense of it, Sam’s in his space, smashing their lips together, nipping on Dean’s lips messily. “T-thank you, Dean,” he’s whimpering, words muffled, feeble. Damn it! Dean wants to stop. Wants to tackle Sam into bed and hold him still until he passes out, but then, he doesn’t really want to stop. He doesn’t reciprocate. Doesn’t return the kiss, because Sam’s drunk and is out of his mind, and somehow, kissing him back feels like taking advantage of his vulnerable state. Dean doesn’t stop it, either. He just stands there, steadying Sam’s swaying form until, finally, Sam’s grip on him loosens and he goes limp in Dean’s arms. 

Carefully, Dean maneuvers his brother until Sam’s sprawled on the mattress,  squirming to get comfortable, occasionally calling out for Dean. Then he goes pliant, burying his face in the pillow, arms twisted in weird angles around himself. 

It’s eerily quiet all of a sudden, and Dean feels exhausted. It’s all too much, too overwhelming, and his brain is still trying to catch up. Sighing, he rubs a hand down his face, his chest feeling heavier with every passing second. If their life was messed up before, he realizes that it just got much more complicated. 

He kind of wishes Sam won’t remember in the morning. That they can go back to their lives, and maybe Dean can pretend this never happened, even though that would hurt like hell. But a small part of him, the honest one, the one that’s been in love with his little brother for years now, wishes that Sam wakes up in the morning and kisses him again, just the same way, and tells him whatever happened wasn’t because of the alcohol or the overwhelming emotions. That it happened because Sam wanted it.

That tiny part of him hopes his brother feels the same way about him.

* * *

 ~Chamsp


	3. Prompt - The way you said “I love you.” - From very far away.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's POV. On the night he leaves for Stanford.

Sometimes in life, when you think you’ve got it all figured out, someone walks in and turns it upside down. Makes you question everything you’ve ever believed in.

 

You didn’t ‘just’ walk into my life. You’ve been here always, since the moment I started breathing. You, however, have managed to make me question everything I’ve ever believed in. Managed to stroke back to life the monster I buried deep down years ago. The ugly monster in me. The one wanting to hold you, kiss you, worship every inch of you.

 

Even though you’re my big brother.

 

I’ve to leave soon. Maybe in thirty minutes, maybe ten, I don’t know. It feels like I’ve been standing here forever, my feet chained to the ground by invisible shackles. There must be a rock in my chest, because it wouldn’t feel this heavy otherwise.

 

I’m on a schedule, but I can’t bring myself to take the next step– away from you, toward a different life. A life I chose, a life I thought I needed. Until now.

 

Now, though, all I can see, all I can think of is you. You said you’d see me off, but you’re not here. You’re holed in the shitty motel. Drunk off your ass, huddled in the corner of the room, hugging your knees to your chest and slowly rocking back and forth, you’ve never looked more like a lost child.

 

And the way you looked at me when I came to say goodbye. God! I couldn’t stand the intensity of it. You didn’t say a word, but I saw them in your eyes. The “don’t go.” The “I need you,” and the “I don’t know if we’ll survive this if you leave.”

 

If you had said them, I would have never been able to leave. Maybe that’s why you didn’t.

 

I stand here now, in a crowded bus station, about to walk away from you–the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I stand here, and there’s only one thing I hear. The only words playing on my heard since you uttered them in drunken haze.

 

The broken whisper of, “S-Sammy, I… God! I l-love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on Facebook/Tumblr. My user name is Chamsp everywhere. I'd love to hear from you. <3


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